


I Know Where You Live

by lucifers_first



Category: Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifers_first/pseuds/lucifers_first
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Joker starts acting weird...weirder and his antics become press fueled...Batman/Bruce Wayne has to question his real motive!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know Where You Live

"Hellooooo Mr Scary-man!" sang The Joker, swaggering mockingly into the damp, mouldy warehouse. He glanced around smiling…grinning, taking in his unflattering surroundings. Dark, wet, cold, smelly, big and…cheap.

"You should really kill your real-estate agent, cause whatever you paid for this…it wasn't worth it!" he observed seriously, staring at the group of men who stood in front of him, all armed with sub-machine guns. All except for the man at the front, he was armed only with a small hand-gun.

The Joker casually gave the group a once over. Boring clothes, boring guns, boring faces, boring! No makeup, no smiles and no blood…all together a truly toxic and pointless place for The Joker to be.

After deciding not to kill anyone yet, The Joker straightened his purple coat and ran an indigo leather glove through green tinged, perpetually wet ringlets.

"Would somebody please die or blow up or something…even just tell a joke? Come on!" The Joker spun around elegantly and returned to face the mob, his arms outstretched.

"Shut up freak and give me the money." Murmered the leader quietly and The Joker froze staring quietly at the man, his green eyes glinting dully with unsuppressed madness.

"What money, Mr Scary?" The Joker asked sweetly, "The money I would give you if you told me where The Batman's cave is?"

"We know where the cave is and we will tell you when you give us—" the leader began, in the same even voice as he had used to insult The Joker, but he was cut short when the chest of every man surrounding his exploded simultaneously and a shower of blood rained down upon the man and the bodies of the fallen.

The Joker stood just out of reach of the blood splatter and carefully took a single crimson droplet from his white cheek and dropped it onto his tongue, rolling it round like a fine wine.

"Welsh…with a fine undertone of Portuguese and…what's that?Australian?Unusual, but not unpleasant!" The Joker muttered and then he called up to the roof beams. "Thank you Freddy, Joe and Porky! Excellent marksmanship and timing! Have a look in your backpacks…I left a present for you!" Suddenly there were three short sharp bangs in close succession and three bodies dropped from the rafters, adding to the pool of blood that was spreading outwards from the centre of the warehouse.

Then all was silent, except for the pathetic whimpering of the once proud leader as he crouched among the steaming corpses of his armoured guards. The Joker stood and enjoyed the peace for a second, closing his eyes and replaying the blood fountain over and over in his mind.

When he looked down at his feet, he saw that the shoes of his designer brown leather shoes were sticky with blood. The Joker stepped forward, enjoying the slight splashing noise his feet made as he walked through the blood toward the huddled figure.

"Hush a bye bad-man, crouched on the floor, you tried to cheat me, but not anymore!" The Joker sang softly, creeping up to the man and lifting the bottom of his coat so he could squat next to him. "You're gonna tell me where's the Battyman's cave! I'll kill you soon after but try to be brave!"

You're a sick fuck!" the man said, shaking visibly, but still managing to spit into The Joker's face. The Joker growled in frustration, grabbed the man by his throat and angrily wiped the pit off his cheek, taking with it a large portion of white and red makeup.

"Why did ya have to go and spoil the mood? Huh? I just redid my face and now I have to do it all over again!" The Joker's eyes glinted fiercely and he pulled out a small switch-blade and held it just inside the leader's mouth. "Give me the Bat's address or I give you a premature viewing of your own blood fountain display! I will do it, because red is such a pretty colour!"

The man, although one powerful, was far from brave or honourable and in a series of frightened splutters he told The Joker that Batman's cave was underneath Bruce Wayne's Mansion, at which The Joker's grin widened even further.

"So either ol' Brucey knows who Batty is…or Bruceys' gone batty!"

"You are insane…" the man mumbled around the knife and The Joker cocked an eyebrow, before observing.

"And you are not smiling. However, unlike my insanity…or as I like to say: extreme intelligence…your 'not smiling' problem can be cured!" The Joker hummed merrily as he cut open the sides of the man's face with two quick slices. The man screamed and trashed from side to side, before lying still and shaking in shock, as he realised that talking was no longer an option.

The Joker carefully smeared the blood on the man's face into a sort of smile and then leant him back on the shattered remains of one of the men.

"Hang on a sec'!" The Joker said, patting the blood soaked shoulder and standing to feel in his pockets. He pulled out a small tin of black face makeup, a pen and a mini pink stapler. Then he squatted again and with one gloved finger, he smudged black around the man's eyes.

"There you go!" The Joker gushed, leaning back and squinting like an artist, "I'd say a vast improvement, but I am always open to constructive criticism…any thought? No? Ok!"

Then he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a playing card…The Joker, of course. He leant on his knee and used the pen to write a series of numbers in the white border and the he wrote…

If you can fly without a plane, I know where you live! Call me!

…in capital letters. Taking the stapler in his right hand he held the card to the man's forehead with his left and then brought down the stapler once, securing the playing card to the man's brow. The man groaned with pain and weakly tried to move his arms, but just then The Jokerstabbed him through the neck.

Glorying in the thrill of watching the blood gush and spray (such a beautiful colour), The Joker almost forgot to watch the life leave the man's eyes, but he looked up just in time to say, "I'm going to burn your money, seeing as you won't need it…but I'll keep $200 if you don't mind…your blood wrecked my coat."

"Master Wayne, have you seen this mornings' telecast?" Alfred asked as he set down the tray on Bruce's bed and opened the thick curtains to let the sun stream onto the bleary eyed hero. Bruce rolled over and pulled a pillow over his face.

"Bats are nocturnal, Alfred!" he mumbled crossly, "So are billionaire playboys…do you see a pattern?"

"I am afraid that the man on the television has forced me to awaken the city's saviour." Alfred replied, quite unperturbed by Bruce's terse manner. "The Joker appears to have surfaced."

Bruce sat up with a start, spiling his orange juice, coffee and warm pancakes all over the clean bed sheet. But, he didn't care. He reached for the TV remote and turned it on.

"—the man, believed to be involved in a major drug ring was the last victim to be killed. Forensics suggest that he was killed approximately five minutes after the others who all died in gunfire, with the exception of three men who literally exploded, they were believed to have been in league with The Joker."

The man reporting allowed himself to breath, before continuing with what was undoubtedly his biggest scoop so far. Bruce sat up further, not noticing as the coffee began to get cold and uncomfortable in his lap.

"The final victim is believed to have been brutally disfigured, with the sides of his mouth being split open and then stabbed through the throat. Still no news on why The Joker committed these twelve alleged murders, but psychologist Edwin Baker at the Arkham Asylum believes that The Joker has only one motivation and that is Batman. As if to illustrate that point The Joker also left his signature calling card, but this time he actually left his phone number and a message experts believe is directed to the Batman himself! It says: if you can fly without a plane, I know where you live! Call me!"

Bruce frowned and was about to turn the TV off when Alfred took the remote from him and switched to another channel. It was one of those gossip talk shows and Bruce raised an eyebrow in disgust and confusion, until he saw a picture of Batman and The Joker inside a large pink love heart and the talk show host was saying with great gusto and excitement:

"—plane, I know where you live! Call me! Oh my gosh! Ladies and gentlemen! Is that a threat? Or maybe a joke? Personally I think it might be a public flirt between lovers! (applause and laughter). The Joker is a sociopathic psychopath and Batman is hardly much better, who's to say they weren't made for one another? (laughter) Huh?(applause and laughter) I think that given the—"

Alfred threw the remote onto the bed and continued trying to pick up Bruce's spoiled breakfast.

"So as you can see, Master Wayne, I had a good reason to wake you up."


End file.
